


Stars to Shame

by Ariaaaa (Idreamt_once)



Series: Ship and Smut [3]
Category: EXO (Band)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Historical, M/M, Master/Slave, Porn With Plot, Smut, more plot than smut? idk, there's plot i swear lmao
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-06-16
Updated: 2019-02-20
Packaged: 2019-05-24 08:42:42
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 4
Words: 9,980
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14951369
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Idreamt_once/pseuds/Ariaaaa
Summary: A peasant sells his own life away for his mother and brother. He never would have thought that he'd be falling in love with the Crown Prince.Or- For his family's survival, Junmyeon sells himself into slavery, only to be bought and sold again, this time, to Prince Yixing.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Winkochan](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Winkochan/gifts).



> 'Sup y'all. The author of the original work was such a master of words, I had to. Of course, this one is EXO'ed, but I hope it'll be up to par with the original!

     “Your Highness?” a girl’s voice asked. Prince Yixing looks up from his paperwork and smiled at her.

     “Yes, Meimei?” he asks her.

     “Your father asks that you see him in the Great Hall,” she replied. Yixing gets up and follows her quietly around.

     He knew what was going to be asked of him. He was going to be twenty-one next week. His father had always known that he hated the practice of enslaving another human being to be used. He’d tried his best to defy his father. His father had given Meimei to him when she was thirteen. Terrified and lonely, he had taught her to hide behind a mask and to find something that she could do, so that she wouldn’t be killed. She had easily found a passion in music and dance, and instead of being a personal pet, became an entertainer. His father had not approved of this, but he let it slide, mesmerized by her gracefulness. Since then, she’d always stood guard for him, and sometimes, he really only had solace in the seventeen-year-old.

     “Yixing-ge,” she said, voice low as they travel through the halls, “His Majesty would not accept it if you trained another musician, instead of...instead of...” her voice fades out, too scared to even utter the words.

     “I know,” Yixing replied. How was he going to save this new slave from the torture that was going to follow?

“He’s too beautiful for the life he’s living,” Meimei said quietly as they arrived at the large doors. She stepped aside and knelt with the other slaves, her hands in her lap and her head bowed. Yixing took a deep breath and pushed open the doors.

* * *

**Four days ago**

     “I’ll strike you a deal,” Junmyeon said to the nobleman. The well-dressed man looked Junmyeon up and down, eyeing his rags and dirt.

     “And why should I listen to a street rat like you?” the nobleman said. Junmyeon bristled at the derogatory term, but did not let it show. He needed this deal.

     “In exchange for my freedom, six thousand silver” Junmyeon said. The nobleman’s eyebrows go up.

     “Three,” the nobleman argues. Junmyeon shakes his head.

     “Five,” Junmyeon said.

     "Four,” the nobleman countered. Junmyeon takes a moment to ponder.

     "Fine, but I want the silver now.” Junmyeon said. The nobleman stands up, raising a hand to Junmyeon’s face, tilting his face and inspecting his features.

     “Such a beauty.” Junmyeon tries not to flinch away from his hand. The nobleman claps twice, and a servant, perhaps a slave, Junmyeon can’t tell, brings forth four bags of silver. Junmyeon’s never seen this much money in his life, let alone possessed it. He tries not to think about the consequences of tomorrow, but instead focuses on how to deliver the money to his mother and little brother.

     “You can follow me to my home while I deliver these,” Junmyeon said.

 

     “Sehun, fetch the door, it should be your brother,”

     “Yes, Mother,” Sehun cheerfully swings the door open. Junmyeon stands there with four bags of silver. Sehun gasps.

     “Junmyeon-hyung...how?” Sehun asked. Sehun’s reaction immediately gains the attention of their mother.

     “Son, what did you do?” his mother asked. Junmyeon smiled.

     “Take the money, Mother,” Junmyeon said, trying to keep his voice even, “Move to a better place. Let Sehun go to school. Get yourself a decent paying job. I’m just a small sacrifice,” Junmyeon smiled at his mother and turned to his little brother.

     "Sehunnie, when Mother tells you to do something, do it, okay?” Junmyeon said, “If she tells you to study hard, you better be at the top of your class, understand? You must be better than all the other students. Work hard, Sehunnie, you’re capable of so much.” Junmyeon kisses his mother one last time, gives Sehunnie one last hug before they drag him away.

     “Your name?” the nobleman asked. Junmyeon chose instead to stare out the carriage’s window. He felt no hate towards the nobleman, but rather stark indifference. He didn’t want to tell him his birth name, because that name, that man, was dead. He was no longer free. Junmyeon thought about how he’d chosen this life for his brother and mother, and how he was sort of a saviour, a guardian.

     “Suho.” Yes, because Junmyeon was dead. Junmyeon was dead the moment he saw his mother cry for the last time. Junmyeon was dead the moment he realized he’d never see Sehunnie come of age and how he’d never see Sehunnie’s wife and future children. Suho curled onto himself, bringing his knees up to his chest.

     When the carriage rolled to a stop in front of a mansion, the nobleman seized his thin arms and dragged him inside. He didn’t even put up a fight, instead letting the nobleman have his way with him. He would be an indifferent slave. The nobleman lead him into the slave’s corridor and shoved him into an empty room before locking it tight. Suho sighed.

     By some miracle, the door was opened the next day, but not by the nobleman.

     “Are you his newest slave?” A guardsman asked Suho. He could not find it in himself to speak, but he nodded. Two more filed into the small, damo room and dragged him out by his arms. Suho was used to the manhandling at this point, and let himself be dragged. Upon entering the mansion’s lobby, he was pushed down onto his knees. Suho dared to sneak a glance up.

     His master was on his knees, in front of a man draped in purple and velvet. A golden crown rested atop the graying hair. The king paid Suho no heed.

     “Why had you not submitted the taxes I have asked of you?” the king’s booming voice echoed in the marble lobby, “How will you repay me?”

     The nobleman trembled at the king’s feet. The king derisively turns in Suho’s direction.

     “Is this your newest toy?” The king smiled, but no real joy was evident. Suho dares not look up.

     “How young, how beautiful,” the king mused, taking steps forward so he was standing before Suho. Suho shivered, fear shaking his every cell.

     “Look up, slave,” the king ordered. Suho froze. _Look up?_ Suho very slowly raised his head, still too afraid to meet the king’s eyes. A gloved hand shoots out and grabs his jaw, grip painful as the king inspects his face.

     “Tell me, have you deflowered him yet?” The king asked the nobleman. Suho’s cheeks start to flush, and as soon as the king drops his hand, Suho drops his head.

“N-no, Your Majesty,” the nobleman said, eager to get the attention off of himself.

     “As a repayment for your failure,” the king said to the nobleman, “I will take your slave,” Suho is once again hauled up by the arms, but this time, they’re chained behind him. For the second time in two days, he’s dragged out and shoved into a carriage.

 

     Suho decides that he does not like the palace slave quarters one bit. It’s only his second night here, and he’s already been bitten by four rats. They could carry disease, but Suho really doesn’t care. The sooner he dies, the better. He’s already been forced to watch as another slave girl was raped by an advisor, and a young boy whipped to death for using the restroom. He’s just about to head off to catch what little sleep he can when the guards come. It’s a rare enough occurrence, but everyone knows what it means. The guards scan the cells, searching. They stop at Suho’s cell and unlock the door. Suho doesn’t turn around to face them, doesn’t cry or whimper like the others do. He simply stands there as they chain his arms behind his back, slap a metal collar on his neck, and drag him out. He ignores the stares from the other slaves, instead letting himself wallow in self pity. There was no question about what the collar meant. He was being traded as a pleasure slave.

  



	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> My grammar is so bad. I'm sorry y'all
> 
> Eid:T OH FUCK I REALIZED I FORGOT TO CHANGE THE NAMES BACK IT SAID "TAEYEON" HOLY MOTHER OF TARNATION

     Suho had never been this scared in his entire nineteen years of existence. He was barely conscious with exhaustion and hunger, his body shivering every now and then, cold chains still clamped on his bony wrists. He was kneeling behind the king, who was sitting at the table, covered in dishes that Suho could only ever dream of. The king sits at the throne, easily conversing with the other men at the table, a beautiful woman to his right that Suho assumes to be the queen. Suho tries not to fall asleep. Last time he was caught catching winks had lead to a slap across the face. He didn’t want to know what followed that.

     Yixing took a deep breath, and pushed open the large wooden doors. The hall immediately falls silent and chairs scrape as the advisors stand. Yixing ignores the advisors, opting to bow to his father first.

     “Good evening, Father,” Yixing said, voice loud and echoing in the room. He turns slightly.

     “Good evening to you too, Consort,” He doesn’t bother addressing the consort by her name, nor by her rank. She is of no matter to him anyway. He smirks at her discomfort. It is then that he notices the boy behind his father’s chair, barely awake and shackled. _Time to play._

     “Father, is that a new slave I see?” Yixing asked, testing the waters.

     “See anything you like?” the king replies, mirroring Yixing’s smirk. Yixing ignores his father’s question in favor of walking past the table and his father’s chair directly to the slave. Yixing feels the eyes of the advisors on his back, burning holes, scrutinizing the Crown Prince. Yixing extends his hand and lifts the head of the slave. He’s young, probably younger than Yixing himself, with skin that put the Consort to shame. And those eyes…

     “What’s your name?” Yixing asked. His voice is low so that only he can hear. Suho shakes his head lightly. _Not here._ Yixing closes his eyes and takes a deep breath. His kind demeanor falls away when he opens his eyes again, and it shocked Suho at how fast someone can switch between personalities.

     “Father, if I may so request,” Yixing began, “may I...ah... _have_ this one?” The words taste bitter on his tongue, almost making Yixing retch with how disgusting they felt. The king, however, smiled broad.

     “My son, are you finally taking up your legacy? Of course!” the king laughs, and the sound makes Yixing’s stomach twist. Yixing beckons for two servants.

     “Take him up to my room,” he said, before turning to face the table of advisers. This was going to be a long night.

     Suho didn’t know what to think as he was lead away from the hall and into the Prince’s room. His thoughts endlessly cycle back to the man in the hall. When he had first walked in, Suho’s first thought was that he was dead. _I’m dead and the angels have come for me._ But then he spoke. _What’s your name?_ When the large wooden doors closed behind them, one of the girls kneeling suddenly stood up.

     “Are you okay?” she asked. She was no older than he, yet, based off of her clothes, was the same status as he.

     “I’m—” Suho began, his voice cracking. Was he okay? Not really. Was he scared? Hell yeah.

     “It’s okay, His Highness is kind,” she said gently. It took him a while to notice that she was the only one walking with him now.

     “I’m Meimei,” she said, her voice gentle as they turned left, “I’m—” she pauses. Suho understands how she feels.

     “I’m in the same boat as you,” she finally said. Suho only nods as she pushes open a set of ornate doors.

     “This is Prince Yixing’s room,” she explained, “You are safe behind these doors, okay?” Suho nods again. Meimei leads him to the bathroom, and sits Suho down on the side of the tub, already drawn with hot water. She sits down behind him and starts to undo his chains.

     “In front of others,” she began, her voice low and the chains clink, “you have to act like a slave. In front of just His Highness or me, you can be yourself.”

     “Why?” Suho asked, having finally found his voice. The last chain falls away and Suho rubs at his wrists. Meimei moves to sit in front of him.

     “Because he hates the idea of enslavement,”

     Suho sits in the hot water for what seems like forever. Meimei came in once to place towels and clothes on the bench and left quietly. Never before had Suho done something without a care in the world, taking as much as time he was now. He had scrubbed himself incessantly, determined to get all traces of the dirt and shame off of himself. He eventually motivated himself enough to get out of the hot water, walking over to the pile of clothes she had set out. The towel was made of impossibly soft material, and the clothes were simple white cotton. They were a little big on Suho. He takes a deep breath and pokes his head out.

     Meimei is at the bed, laying out the duvet and fluffing the pillows. Suho admires the way her hands are quick and efficient with her work. He coughs gently to her get attention and she turns.

     “Done?” she asked. Suho nodded. She puts the pillow back and walks over to the dresser.

     “Here, I brought you some food. I’m sorry, this was all I could get. Yixing-ge usually brings much more and much better food,” she said, motioning for Suho to sit and eat. Suho stares at the plate of food, heaping with bread and cheese and the glass of milk beside it.

     “Thank you,” Suho whispered to her. Meimei smiles before turning back to the bed.

     “Don’t overstuff yourself,” she warned him just as he shoved a bite into his mouth, “that’s what I did on my first day here and had the worst stomach ache in the history of mankind.”

     Five minutes later, Meimei’s finished with the bedding and has moved on to cleaning the bathroom and drawing a bath for the Prince when Suho finishes. Never before had he had such a fulfilling meal in his life. The exhaustion from earlier starts to come back now that he’s full and not as scared.

     “Meimei?” Suho called out tentatively. Meimei’s head pops back into the main bedroom.

     “Where do I sleep?” Suho asked. Meimei looked at him as if she couldn’t believe he was asking this question. It takes her a moment to realize he was serious.

     “In his bed,” Meimei said matter-of-factly before disappearing back into the bathroom.

     “What?!” Suho sputtered. Meimei pops back into the bedroom.

     “He’s not going to bed you until you express a readiness to, but you still have to play the part.” Meimei explained. Suho still does not understand.

     “So, to the world outside of this room, he’s—uh—doing the do with you, but he won’t actually,” Meimei explained, “but you have to act like he is, otherwise you will both be in trouble. Got it?”

     “Yeah,” Suho couldn’t believe that kind slave masters existed. Meimei steps out of the bathroom with a armful of dirty towels and dumps them in a hole in the wall that Suho assumes goes down to the washing rooms. She turns around and gives him a look.

     “So are you going to move yourself to the bed, or do I have to help you?” She asked, a glint in her eyes. Suho snaps out of his stupor.

     “I have to wait for him to permit me first, right?”

     “No, you can just go. He won’t blame you. You’ve had a long day, Yixing-ge knows it.”

     Suho eyes the bed like it has teeth before another wave of exhaustion hit him. His eyes flutter and he sways a little. He takes a deep breath and takes a step closer.

     “Go to the other side, Yixing-ge likes the right side,” Meimei said, she was now clearing the plate and forks, setting them on a silver tray. Suho obediently walks to the otherside of the bed.

     “I have to tell you, don’t ask about Yixing-ge’s past. It is a tragic past. If he wishes to tell you, then listen and do not speak. Do not ask for details, and only nod along, even if you do not understand.” Meimei said quietly. Suho nods.

     “I’ll be right back, I have to go to the kitchens,” Meimei said, and just like that, the door shuts behind her. Suho is alone in the Prince’s quarters. His fingers hover above the snow-white duvet.

     “Ah, screw it,” Suho said, before flinging it off and tucking himself in under it. The pillows caress his head gently, and tries to sleep, but cannot. Everything feels wrong. This time yesterday, he was dealing with his fourth rat bite, shivering and dying in the slave quarters. But now, he’s clean, washed, and sleeping in _the Prince’s bed._ His eyes are tired, but his brain is not.

     He hears the door open gently, but it is not Meimei’s quiet footsteps. _It’s the Prince._ Suho realizes. His mind blanks and he freezes. _Pretend to be asleep._ He hears the Prince sigh, drop something onto the dresser and hears the bathroom door open. Only when it closes does Suho sneak a glance at the room. It’s still dimly lit by the candles in the walls. On the dresser is the velvet jacket that the Prince was wearing in the hall earlier. Suho hears the water drain and shuts his eyes, letting his left arm flap onto the duvet.

     Yixing comes out of the bathroom wearing his sleeping wear. He knows the figure under the duvet was not asleep. A soft knocking comes from the door. Meimei walks in, carrying a water jug and two glasses.

     “Yixing-ge, you should sleep,” she said,placing the water jug and glasses on the dresser table. Yixing nods at her and she takes her leave. Yixing walks to the empty side of the bed. That’s when he takes his first good look at the boy. Suho. Meimei told him earlier that “Suho” is what he called himself. Yixing knows that that is not his real name. He takes in the soft features, admiring them, even in the dim light. A dark red wound stands out sharply against the fair skin of his arm. Yixing gasps. He’s never seen something like this, but he knows a bite when he sees one. What to do? He’s already dismissed Meimei, he doesn’t want to call her all the way back up. _Ah, screw it. I’ll do it myself._ He gets up quietly and goes to the bathroom where he knows Meimei keeps the bandages.

     He scoured the cabinet for an antiseptic ointment. After flipping endless bottles of Meimei’s neat handwriting, he finally finds one that reads “For cuts and blood”. He grabs the small glass vial, a roll of white cotton, and a towel. He drops the things next to Suho and takes his arm gently. Yixing dabs a little bit of ointment onto a corner of the towel and applies it. He pretends not to notice Suho’s flinch. He dabs a generous amount onto the wound before wrapping the bandage around it. He hops off the bed, and gently uncovers Suho’s other arm, pulling back the long sleeved shirt and checking for more. He finds three more, one on the right leg, and two on the left arm. He bandages them all up. When he returns from putting the stuff away and turns off the light, he hears an almost inaudible “thank you”.

 

     Sunlight streaming through the window pulls Suho gently out of slumber. He blinks twice at the sight of a bed and a mess of black hair next to him. Confusion hits him at first, but eventually, the memories flood back. The throb of the bites on his arm has drastically lessened, and a glance reminds him that the Prince had treated them. _The Prince._ Suho quietly turns his head. The Prince’s back is to him, allowing Suho to admire the broad shoulders and back muscles. He’s in the midst of wondering how such a person could be alive when he spoke.

     “Good morning, Suho,” Yixing murmured, voice rough from sleep. Suho freezes. Did he have enough status to speak to the Prince?

     “Good morning, Your Highness,” Suho whispered, afraid his voice would crack. The Prince turns to face the ceiling.

     “Rule number one: Don’t ever call me ‘Your Highness’ behind those doors,” Yixing said with a hint of sterness in his voice. Suho nodded.

     “Then what shall I call you?” Suho questioned.

     “You can call me what Meimei calls me: Yixing-ge. I’m fine with that,” the Prince said. Suho nods again.

     “How old are you?” Yixing asked with curiosity in his voice now.

     “Nineteen—wait,” Suho’s confused. He never really had a need for the days, except to count the days of winter.

     "Tonight is the fifth full moon,” Yixing supplies.

     “Then I’m twenty. As of tonight,” Suho replied. Yixing nods.

     “I would ask you to tell me a bit about you, but I’ll go first,” Yixing said. Suho stays silent, recalling what Meimei had warned him of the night before.

     “I am the last son of the king, and the only son of the late queen. My mother was pregnant and died when I was two, a fire caused by two of my father’s consorts. They had hoped to kill me as well, to get their children to succeed, but luckily, I was saved by one of my mother’s slaves. I will never forget her. Her name was Xiaoxue. She was later killed by one of the consorts, but after she’d taken me to my father’s study. My father was enraged and executed the two consorts, even their children. But I will never see my father’s consorts in the same light ever again. I didn’t see the slaves in the same way either.

     From that day, I detested how the rich viewed the slaves; as if they were not human. My mother was kind to her slaves, which is the only reason that Xiaoxue was motivated to help me. If my mother was not kind, I would be dead. I was an observant boy, I knew that my opinions would be of no use unless I beat the other children to succeed the throne, so I studied and trained. Although I was one of the youngest, I was the only legitimate child, which gave me an advantage, but the other consorts set their sights upon me. At seventeen, I was crowned the heir after beating my siblings in a series of tests. The tests—are not something I wish to talk about right now. That was the same year Meimei was brought to me.” Yixing sighed. Suho could tell it was hard, but Suho said nothing, letting Yixing continue.

     “She was so young, just barely out of her childhood days. There was no way I could do that to her. So I told her to study something. She chose music. If she ever dances for you, you should thank the heavens. Eventually, I started to see her more as a little sister than as a friend or a slave. She was the first one I told my secrets to. I don’t know what I’d do without her,” Yixing finished. Suho nodded. He waited for more, but there was no more, so he took a breath, and started to speak.

     “My father was an alcoholic. He always drank up what little money we had, so my mother took my little brother and I and ran. We crossed the river into this country. It was hard, at first, a new language, a new set of customs, but it was better than my father. My mother worked hard to get us a place to stay, but it was impossible trying to raise two growing boys on her waitress job. Whatever food we had was usually stolen by my brother and I. We never went to school, but we were smart enough to steal bread. All the way until…”Suho’s voice tapers off. He takes a breath, and continues again.

     “A few days ago, I struck a deal with a nobleman, selling myself for four thousand. I hoped it was enough for my little brother to go to school and for my mother to get a better place. And then I wound up here. Sleeping besides a prince in a bed.” Suho smiles bitterly at the end.

     “What’s your brother’s name?” Prince Yixing asked in a gentle voice. Suho turns to him, surprised.

     “Out of all the things, why my brother?”

     “Just tell me”

     “Kim Sehun” Suho said. Suddenly, tears spring to his eyes and his throat tightens. Yixing nods, sitting up and getting out of bed.

     “Where are you going?” Suho asked. Yixing doesn’t face him as he grabs the clothes Meimei laid out and heads into the bathroom.

     “I’m a prince, we’re not all glitz and glam, you know,”

     When Yixing comes out of the bathroom looking like a prince, it makes Suho gasp. Gone is the soft hair and gentle eyes. Yixing’s hair is styled back, and kohl on his eyes makes him look stern and unyielding.

     “You should stay in this room, especially if you’re not comfortable around the palace,” Yixing said, putting on his shoes.

     “What will you tell the others if I’m absent?” Suho asked.

     “That you’re in too much pain and that I don’t want my personal slave too tired for tonight,” Yixing replied, matter-of-factly. Suho blushes. Yixing grabs his jacket from the closet and bids Suho farewell before closing the door behind him. Suho sits there on the bed, admiring how self-sufficient the prince was. Not a single servant helps him in the morning, and he leaves the room like he’s headed for the stage. Amazing.

     Suho’s still lost in his thoughts when Meimei comes into the room. He only snaps out of them when she places the tray in his lap.

     “This is from Yixing-ge,” she said, and Suho digs in.

     “Do you want to go anywhere? I can take you to look around, but obviously we can only see certain parts,” she said as she wiped down the water on the sink in the bathroom.

     “Can we see the gardens?” Suho asked between bites of pastry and scrambled egg. Meimei smirks.

     “Of course, but you’d have to limp, eh?”

 

     Yixing has been to too many meetings in his life. But never was he this unfocused. His thoughts always trail back to a beautiful boy that was even more beautiful as he slept. It is afternoon when he finally has a chance to go back to his room to check on him. To his surprise, he sees a note on his bed.

_East Garden    -MM_

     East Garden was right by his study. The furthermost windows showed a beautiful view of the garden. Yixing smiled to himself. East Garden was Yixing’s personal spot, since his mother was buried there. His father had respected that, not letting guards into the garden, instead letting his heir manage it himself. Nowadays, it was mainly Meimei that tended it, and it flowered beautifully.

     Yixing heads downstairs to his study, leaning on the window to look at the pair. He spies Suho and Meimei sitting in a flowerbed of daisies. Meimei was weaving together the stems of the flowers and making a wreath of them. Suho was watching the butterflies that flitted around, even letting one land on his extended finger. The smile that Suho gave could have blinded the sun. Meimei placed her finished crown of flower upon Suho’s head, and he laughed, the sound, traveling up to Yixing’s second-floor window, was music to his ears. It was in that moment that Yixing decided, that _maybe_ he felt something for Suho.

     When it was too hot for them to be outside any longer, Suho and Meimei snuck back inside to Yixing's room. Meimei dropped Suho off in the prince’s quarters before leaving with a promise of food. Alone, Suho wandered the room, taking a good look at the walls and decorations he hadn’t noticed the night before. Aside from the royal crest, a few drawing hung around, each identical in size and framing. The first one was a charcoal sketch of a girl sitting in a flower patch, identical to the one in the garden earlier. A signature on the bottom told Suho that it was drawn by the crown prince.  _ The girl must be Meimei _ .  The second one was an oil painting, also done by the prince. It depicted Meimei in midair, her legs in a perfect split, her sleeves fallen to reveal delicate fingers, her dance clothes in a wisp about her. But the focal point of the piece was that, despite the beauty of the artwork itself, her eyes seemed distant, like she was seeing, but not really seeing. It tore something in Suho’s heart. The last one was a portrait that hung above the headboard of the bed. A beautiful, elegant woman cradling a young boy while a stern man rested his hand on her shoulder. 

     “Wow,” Suho whispered to the air. This must be a young Yixing and his parents. His mother was such a gorgeous woman.  _ This must be where Yixing-ge gets his genes from _ . Wait, did he just call the prince attractive?  _ I suppose he is really handsome _ . Suho smiled to himself. 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Lmao I just re-read it and it's so cringey lmao i wanna die haha but it's too late smh


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for not updating! Blame Helena, she changed the account password but didn't tell me (fight me)
> 
> Biggest plot-hole in the history of mankind: "tonight's the fifth moon"- meanwhile it's also October hmmmm
> 
> I'm very intelligent. 
> 
> ~~~Aria~~~

     Suho should’ve known to be suspicious of it. Here he was, standing like a mannequin, arms outstretched, watching Meimei flutter about him, fingers deftly pinching up parts of the fabric and inserting a pin.

     “I can’t wait to see you in this!” Meimei sighed happily. Suho wasn’t too sure about her statement. Being dolled up was one thing, but accompanying the Crown Prince himself to the royal birthday dinner? Suho had never, in his entire pitiful life, imagined this. Suho groaned.

     “Are we done yet?”

     “Yeah, hold up, I’ve got two more pins.”

     “When is this birthday feast thing anyway?”

     “In two days,” Meimei replied, slotting another pin under Suho’s arm.

     “And why do I have to accompany him?”

     “Because this year, I don’t want to go.”

     “But why me?”

     “Because if it’s not me then it’s you.”

     “And why—ow!” Suho jumped when the pin poked at his skin. Meimei looked apologetic for a brief moment.

     “You talk too much.” Meimei said instead, pulling out the pin and reinserting it. Suho promptly shut up, letting Meimei grumble about him being too skinny.

 

    If Suho thought that the clothes fitting was bad, oh, he had not anticipated the etiquette. 

    Everything, from how one should bow to the pearls on a prince’s crown, seemed to be centered on rank. The more pearls, the higher the rank. 

    “Remember, Yixing-ge is the sixth son. The first one died in battle. The second one —Yishuo— is a jealous bitch. The third one —Yiheng— is the second one’s henchman, brainless but obedient. The fourth one is Yifan; he’s nice, Yixing-ge trusts him a lot. The fifth one was executed, along with his mother. Got that?” Meimei rattled off. Suho’s head spun at the information. 

    “Ok, the princesses probably will not be present, so it doesn’t matter. Yixing-ge only has half-sisters,” Meimei continued. Suho nodded. That information was easier to memorize. 

    Later, Meimei had him walk from the door to the bed and back, and picked out everything wrong. 

    “Your steps are too large. You need to hold your head higher. Walk in a straight line, but don’t be too stiff.” Meimei listed. Suho groaned inwardly, but knew better than to disobey Meimei. 

    “Let’s go again, shall we?”

 

    After what seemed like hours, Prince Yixing finally returned to his room. Suho was saved from endless miles of walking. He was so grateful that Prince Yixing was here that he jumped into the prince’s unexpecting arms. 

    “Bless the heavens! You’re finally here!” Suho called out gleefully. It took him a few moments to register that he was hugging the prince. Tightly. Suho jumped back, his cheeks flushed. He vaguely registered Meimei cackling, too busy studying the carpet at his feet. 

    Yixing smiled fondly at Suho’s flushed cheeks. He rather liked that moment, and hated that he had been too shocked to hug back. Scratch that. He was glad he didn’t, otherwise the endless teasing coming from Meimei would have driven him up the wall. 

    “Good to see you as well, Suho,” Yixing said. He gently shut the door behind him and walked into his room. He eyed the clothes that were on the bed. Meimei followed his line of vision, letting a screech when she realized what Yixing was looking at. 

    “You weren’t supposed to see this yet!” Meimei yelled, gathering the robes in her arms and rushing out of the room. Suho and Yixing both watched her retreating shadow for a few moments. Finally, after a few uncomfortable moments, Yixing cleared his throat. 

    “It’s getting late, we should go to sleep.” Yixing said amicably. Suho nodded. 

 

    Yixing knew that Suho had not fallen asleep yet. Nonetheless, he pretended to be, to give Suho privacy. Yixing was very close to falling asleep himself when he heard Suho speak. 

    “I know you’re probably asleep, but I want to tell you that ‘Suho’ isn’t my real name,” he whispered to the night air. Yixing didn’t react, putting up the fake sleep. 

    “My real name is Junmyeon. I didn’t want a name from my past that I’ll probably never return to. I —” Junmyeon paused. Yixing heard him sniffle a little. 

    “I just hope that Sehunnie is alright.” 

 

    The sun rays were gentle at dawn, Yixing determined. He watched the sunlight caress Junmyeon’s beautiful face, making his lashes turn golden, his lips softer. Yixing knew that Junmyeon was probably far from waking up, since he had cried himself to sleep last night.  _ Sehun. _ Yixing reminded himself. He stole one last look at Junmyeon before sliding out from under the quilt, careful not to wake Junmyeon. He dressed himself and headed out. 

    It was too early for the palace to be awake, save for the kitchen. Yixing grabbed himself some food before heading to his office. He sat himself down at the desk and flipped through the records.  _ Kim Junmyeon. _ He liked the way the foreign name sounded. Suddenly, he remembered something. Junmyeon said that they’d crossed the river.  _ He’s not native. _ Yixing’s heart drops. Their records for the peninsula were out of date. Nonetheless, Yixing picks himself up and drags himself to the library. 

    It took him a full hour and a half to locate “Kim Junmyeon”. Well, all three of them, anyway. One of them was marked as “deceased”. The other two both lacked birthdays and ages. No mention of a “Sehun”, either. Yixing frowned. He placed a slip of paper at his spot, and flipped the record book back to the front. Yixing scanned the first pages for a date. 

    “Seventeen years ago,” Yixing sighed. He had no idea how old Sehun was. Yixing racked his brains for another hint.  _ Wait, let’s just assume that seventeen years ago, Sehun was not yet born. Which means that the father and mother must both be alive.  _ Yixing scanned the names again. 

    “Yes!” Yixing quietly congratulated himself. He read the names and dates quickly, copying them down on his sheet of paper. Yixing closed the book and placed it back before going to find the Scholar. 

    “Your Highness! I had not expected you!” Scholar Li greeted Yixing.

    “Good to see you, Scholar,” Yixing nodded. He pulled out the sheet of paper and handed it to Scholar Li. 

    “What is this, my boy?” Scholar Li asked, eyes scanning the paper. 

    “I want you to find anything and everything you can find on these people,” 

    “These names are not of our tongue,” Scholar Li noted. 

    “Indeed,” Yixing said, “I am aware that records are outdated. Thus, I do not expect the whole story. Part of it is fine.” 

    “Of course,” Scholar Li agreed. Yixing thanked him, and turned to leave. 

    “One last thing,” Yixing said, “please keep this matter discreet.” 

 

    “Get up, you lazy arse,” a gruff voice shouted. Junmyeon blinked. It took him a moment to realize that it was not Meimei’s voice. Junmyeon sat up so quickly, he saw stars. In front of him was an older woman, holding out a bundle of clothing, followed by a team of servants. Junmyeon didn’t know what else to do but to obey her orders. He was bathed, changed, and set down before the dressing mirror. The servants fluttered around him, adding touches of color to his face. 

    “Where is Meimei?” Junmyeon asked. The old woman scoffed. 

    “That little rascal. Procrastinated on her duties. Stayed up all night sewing your robe, as if I wouldn’t know. She’s out like a light right now,” the matron replied. 

    “Oh,” Junmyeon didn’t know what else to say. He glanced at said robe. It was the same one from the fitting, yet before him was no longer a piece of fabric held together by pins. When it was finally pulled over his head, Junmyeon marveled at the work of art. The fabric was silky against his skin, and everything from the sleeves to the length, was cut perfectly. When he stood before the mirror, he awed at the pinch of the waist, how the garment added curves that weren’t there. He took a step forward, and the material shimmered. Junmyeon didn’t notice that the door had opened. 

    “Your Highness.” 

    Junmyeon whirled around, eyes meeting with the handsome Crown Prince. Yixing had donned the crimson robes of his status, and the headpiece to match. With his hair swept out of his eyes, Yixing looked fierce and every bit the prince he was. Junmyeon gulped.  _ Yixing’s even more attractive like this. _

    “You look—” Yixing began, eyeing Junmyeon up and down. Junmyeon snapped out of his thoughts looked at the ground, hoping Yixing wouldn’t notice the redness in his cheeks. 

    “You look so beautiful,” Yixing said finally. Junmyeon looked up and bit his lip, unsure of how to react. His heart was beating wildly in his chest. 

    “Thank you,” Junmyeon said, voice barely above a whisper. Yixing strode forward and held out his arm. 

    “Shall we?” 

 

    Junmyeon grew more and more nervous with each step towards the Great Hall. Unconsciously, his grip on Yixing’s arm tightened. Yixing paused before turning down the hallway. 

    “You don’t have to say anything if you don’t want to,” Yixing said quietly, “I’ll do all the talking.” 

    “I’ll just stand there and look pretty,” Junmyeon replied. Yixing frowned at his wording, but Junmyeon pet his arm, reassuring him that it was alright. 

    “The people in this world, they have everything that money can buy, but there is one thing that is far more coveted: beauty. Especially when it is in the hands of others,” Yixing said, his voice low to a whisper. 

    “Good thing I have you, then, right?” Junmyeon said, trying to lift the mood. Yixing smiled at him warmly, and they proceeded. 

 

    Yixing navigated the party with such ease. Junmyeon marveled at his confidence, especially under the scrutinizing glares of other nobles. Yixing seemed cordial and respectful to everyone. Junmyeon hadn’t let go of Yixing’s arm, following him to greet people, putting on a smile. It was getting later, the sun had long set, and Junmyeon was spacing out, tired from the activity. Suddenly, Junmyeon felt someone’s hand at his waist, and he jumped, startled. Yixing glanced at him, but the prince’s eyes focused at a point over Junmyeon’s shoulder. Yixing shifted, and Junmyeon was under the impression that Yixing was shielding him. Junmyeon finally dared to look up. 

    “Good to see you tonight, dear brother,” the man greeted, a sneer in his voice. He and Yixing bowed to each other. Junmyeon eyed the headpiece, counting the number of pearls on top  it, like Meimei had taught him.  _ Five, this must be Yiheng. _ A high-ranking prince, but still inferior to Yixing. Around them, Junmyeon noticed, people were starting to turn away from their own conversations to watch the princes. Some were more obvious, while others listened to their previous discussions half-heartedly. Junmyeon tried to hide himself behind Yixing, shy under all the newfound attention. 

    “And what brings you here tonight, third-brother?” Yixing replied. The other prince laughed. 

    “I wouldn’t dare miss my little brother’s birthday, hmm?” He responded, voice booming around the Hall. Junmyeon snuck a glance up at the throne. The king was watching the exchange like it was a wrestling match, evil gleam shining and a smirk upon his face. 

    “Aww, look at that, little Yixing has finally grown up!” Another man came from the crowd. Another prince, slightly older than the previous, Junmyeon noted. Yixing noticeably stiffened. 

    “Good evening, second-brother.” Yixing said, voice flat.  _ Six pearls, Prince Yishuo _ . A higher rank than five, but still not as high as Yixing’s seven. 

    “Who’s the little beauty behind you?” Yishuo. Yixing gave no indication he noticed the lilt. Junmyeon’s anger flared, but moved to stand next to Yixing nonetheless.  _ I’m not scared.  _ Yixing squeezed his hand a little.  _ I’ve got you.  _

    “This is Suho.” Yixing said. Junmyeon bowed to each of the princes, careful to keep his expression neutral. He was just about to retreat when something flashed before his eyes. The older prince had whipped out his fan and forced Junmyeon’s chin up. Junmyeon did not back down, anger having replaced his fear. He glared right back into the eyes of the older prince. 

    “Not bad,” Yishuo smirked, letting his arm fall. Junmyeon smiled at the prince. By now, everyone was watching the exchange. 

    “Well, well, well. Our little Crown Prince is finally getting some,” Yiheng mused. Yixing raised an eyebrow at his brother. 

    “If you weren’t too busy drinking and fucking whores, maybe you’d be the Crown Prince,” Yixing snapped back. Junmyeon’s eyes widened in alarm. Yixing never cursed. Yiheng seemed enraged by Yixing’s comment as well, his eyes alight with anger. The tension seemed close to boiling over when it was broken by a shout. 

    “I’ve finally found you all!” A slightly disheveled man joins the group. He’s tall, Junmyeon notes, much taller than Yixing, and easily towering the other two princes. 

    “Where were you, Yifan?” Yiheng asked. 

    “In the garden, why? Did something happen?” Yifan asked, putting on an air of innocence. 

    “That’s enough,” the king finally interjected, descending from the throne. The crowd parts and kneels before him. 

    “Everyone, go off and enjoy the festivities. I am retreating for the night,” 

    “Yes, your majesty,” the crowd chorused. Junmyeon stiffened when the king walked past him. It might have been Junmyeon’s imagination, but the king seemed to pause a little next to him. 

    “Come on, Suho, let’s go,” Yixing tugged Junmyeon’s arm up as soon as the king was out of sight. Junmyeon nodded, suddenly exhausted. Yixing lead him around the hallway back to his room. 

    “Yixing, wait!” Yixing stopped and turned. Yifan ran up to them and tried to catch his breath. 

    “Yes, Yifan-ge?” Yixing asked, tone neutral. Yifan takes another gulp of air. 

    “Let’s walk,” Yifan said. Junmyeon noted that ‘let’s walk’ meant ‘I need to talk to you away from other ears’. 

    “If it’s alright, Your Highness,” Junmyeon said timidly, “I will go find Meimei.” Yixing nodded and let Junmyeon go. Junmyeon scurried away, not wanting to be caught up, but his curiosity was still lingering. 

 

    “What is it?” Yixing asked Yifan in a hushed voice. Yifan twirled his thumbs for a moment. 

    “A little birdy told me,” Yifan said, tone implicit, “that someone wants your life.” Yixing scoffed. 

    “Anything new?” Yixing asked as they rounded the corner to Yifan’s room. 

    “Second-brother has planned your death,” Yifan muttered. Yixing kept walking. 

    “He’s been eyeing my crown since I’ve gotten it, so?” Yixing asked nonchalantly. Yifan glanced around before speaking. 

    “Ah, the new moon is so bright, how could one sleep at night?” Yifan recited. Yixing stared at him for a moment.

    “Thank you, Yifan-ge,” Yixing whispered. Yifan simply bowed and entered his room. 

 

    Yixing went back to his room to make sure that Junmyeon hadn’t gotten lost in the palace. When he walked in, Junmyeon was sitting at the window, looking out over the East Garden. 

    “You should sleep, Junmyeon,” Yixing said quietly. Junmyeon jumped. 

    “You heard me last night,” 

    “And I think Junmyeon is a beautiful name,” Yixing said, smiling. Junmyeon smiled back. 

    “You should rest as well,” Junmyeon said. 

    “I will try,” Yixing said, and moved to close the door. 

    “Have you any idea where Meimei is?” Junmyeon asked suddenly. Yixing paused. 

    “No, why?” 

    “I haven’t seen her at all today, isn’t that strange?” Junmyeon said. 

    “Come to think of it, I don’t think I’ve seen her today either. She’s probably just tired.” 

    Junmyeon nodded, hoping that it was as Yixing said. Yixing closed the door softly, and Junmyeon fell asleep almost as soon as his head hit the pillow. 

    In his study, Yixing sat at his chair, pondering over Yifan’s words. 

_     The new moon is so bright, how could one sleep at night? _

    Logically, the sentence doesn’t make any sense. The new moon is when there is no moon, so why would it be bright? Yixing frowned.  _ The new moon—so bright—sleep—night. _

_     Aha! _

  
  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> References to "Living Costs" by AgentExile. NCT fic, but super good. 10/10 recommend
> 
> Can you figure out Yifan's clue? There is a when, how, and where in the sentence.


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> lol so my little brother started being a bitch half-way through writing this  
> I think it is noticeable where I started getting really pissed off. 
> 
> I might put an epilogue at the end, so it might end up 6 chapters, I'm not sure yet  
> unproofread, will do so later  
> ~~Aria~~

     The young servant boy happily swung his basket around. Though he was stuck with the laundry this week, it was better than sitting in the steaming kitchen, doing the most menial of jobs. He thought he was going to go crazy if he had to peel another potato or skin another onion. Here, at least, he would be able to see the sun. He bowed to the supervisor and headed over to the farthest station. He set his basket down, reached for the first garment, and screamed. 

 

     By high noon, news of the body in the river had circulated the palace. 

     “I heard her eyes were gone!”

     “That’s not true, I heard that she had her tongue cut out.” 

     “Well, I heard that her face was so cut up and bloody that they can’t even tell who she was.” 

 

     Junmyeon yawned. Despite sleeping well after the party, he was still a bit tired. Yixing had been called away early, and Junmyeon was alone and quite bored. He had a book in his lap, and was struggling through the simple words. It had been a good fifteen years since Junmyeon had read, and was finding the characters more and more complicated. Around noon time, Yixing returned and Junmyeon immediately put the book down. 

     “Yixing-ge, what’s the chaos outside?” Junmyeon asked, helping Yixing remove his coat. Yixing took a deep breath. 

     “There was a body in the river, discovered by a servant boy this morning,” Yixing said, voice completely devoid of emotion. Junmyeon gasped. 

     “A body?” 

     “A girl. The doctors say that she drowned, but I don’t believe them.” 

     “Can —can you take me to see the body?” Junmyeon asked. Yixing raised his eyebrows. 

     “I can, but why?” Yixing asked. Junmyeon fidgeted with his robes. 

     “My mother is a doctor. I know a little bit,” Junmyeon said. Yixing mentally noted this information and nodded. 

     The room was cold and damp, and there was only one other person in the room when Yixing and Junmyeon arrived. 

     “Meimei!” Junmyeon gasped. She turned, her face tear-stained and hiccuping. 

     “They killed her,” she whispered. Junmyeon held out his arms and she ran into them, crying into his chest. Yixing pulled aside the white sheet to show the dead girl’s face. Junmyeon rubbed Meimei’s back, trying to comfort her. 

     “Why do you say they killed her?” Junmyeon asked quietly. Meimei pulled back and wiped her tears. 

     “I know he did,” she whispered, “I know he wanted her, and when he couldn’t, he killed her,” 

     “Who is ‘he’?” Yixing asked, voice quiet. Meimei looked down at the stone floor. 

     “I—I shouldn’t,” Meimei hiccuped. 

     “It’s alright, take your time,” Yixing prompted. Meimei took a deep breath and nodded.

     “Two nights ago, I had stayed up late, stitching the robe. Around three strikes, there was a noise from the hall outside my room. My roommates were already asleep. At first, I thought I was hearing things, since it was late and I was tired, but I heard it again, and this time it was much closer. I heard Rongyin talking from the other side of the door. She was telling someone to go away, to leave her alone. I was confused, because Rongyin would never use this tone with anyone; she was always gentle. Then, there was another voice, I—” She paused and wiped her tears. Junmyeon reached out and took her hand. 

     “It will be alright,” Junmyeon whispered. Meimei met his eyes and nodded. 

     “It was him, Yiheng, the Third Prince,” 

 

     Yixing sat before his desk, frowning at the amount of paperwork. Not only did he have a pile of taxes to go through, but he also had the murder of the servant girl—Rongyin—on his mind. Yixing knew that Meimei’s words were reliable, and that no one would take her word, since she was but a mere slave girl. He himself could not accuse his brother, which would cause suspicion. The court officials would likely accuse him of trying to make his brother, his competitor for the throne, fall out of favor with the court. Yixing sighed and rubbed his temples. 

     “Yixing-ge?” Junmyeon asked gently. Yixing put away the paper and turned, trying to put on a smile, but Junmyeon saw through it. 

     “Yes, Junmyeon?” Yixing asked. 

     “I—um, I just thought that you’d be hungry. You haven’t eaten since last night, and, well, it’s been a good several hours, and I don’t want you to be sick, and—oh my gosh, I’m rambling,” Junmyeon bit his lip as his cheeks flushed, suddenly interested in how many rice kernels there were in the bowl. Yixing smiled. Junmyeon was cute when he let his emotions flow. 

     “Thank you, Junmyeon,” Yixing said. Junmyeon snapped out of his embarrassment, and put the tray of food on Yixing’s desk. 

     “How’s Meimei?” Yixing asked in a quiet voice. Junmyeon twirled his thumbs. 

     “She’s coping,” Junmyeon replied. Yixing nodded. 

     “She’s a resilient girl, she will be fine,” Yixing said. Junmyeon looked a little unconvinced, but agreed anyway. A silence descended upon them, until it was shattered by seven strikes of the clock. Junmyeon jumped. 

     “I—I better get back,” Junmyeon muttered before bolting out of the room. Yixing watched him go with a smile on his face.  _ Junmyeon is really cute,  _ Yixing decided. 

     Meimei curled up on the sofa of Yixing’s room, a blanket wrapped around her. She had a blank state of mind. Nothing would come to her thoughts, except for the image of Rongyin—the one friend besides Yixing, and now Junmyeon—that she has ever had. Her first friend, the first one that smiled at her. Rongyin might not know this, but Meimei knew, and that was enough. She pulled the blanket tighter around herself, limbs cold despite the blanket. Meimei started at the fire, and thoughts started to cloud her brain, a swirl of sadness and confusion, until one single word sliced through the fog: revenge. She sat bolt upright. Revenge.  _ I have nothing to lose,  _ she thought, but her reasonable self reeled back.  _ But if you’re caught, then Yixing and Junmyeon would suffer as well.  _ No. There was no possible way she could get her revenge without hurting them. Unless…

 

_ I can’t stand the sight of her empty presence in the corridors.  _

_ I’ve relocated to the East Kitchen _

_ -MM _

 

     Yixing looked up from his scroll.  _ Meimei never knocks like that,  _ he thought, before suddenly remembering that she had relocated. 

     “Come in,” Yixing called. Junmyeon’s heart pounded, but his hands were steady, careful not to tip the tray. 

     “You didn’t have to,” Yixing whispered as Junmyeon set the tea down in front of him. Junmyeon shrugged. 

     “Meimei boils your tea leaves a special way, so I figured…” Junmyeon’s voice tapered off. Yixing felt a rush of emotions. Not only was Junmyeon beautiful and kind, but also perceptive. The prince smiled at him, and Junmyeon felt his cheeks heat up. 

     “Thanks,” Yixing replied, taking a sip. Junmyeon looked scared to see his reaction. 

     “Is—is it alright?” Junmyeon asked tentatively. Yixing nodded. 

     “Almost as sweet as its brewer,” Yixing replied, loving the way Junmyeon ducked his head down, hiding his face and crimson cheeks in soft, small hands. 

  
  


     Meimei hated it the moment she got there. The stuffy kitchen, the constant shouting, and the perpetually wet floors made her head pound. But Meimei kept it bottled up, because she had a target. There were plenty of ways to murder a man, she knew, but in what way to go about it without making a mess? A quick death, she decided, was too convenient for a man who committed murder. Then a tortuous one, but how? She scraped a piece of skin off of a potato, watching the peel fall into the bucket. 

     She lay awake at night, racking her brains for the perfect solution. Nothing came up, so her thoughts drifted to Yixing. She hoped that Junmyeon was the one serving Yixing’s tea, because he would know how the prince likes his tea. She hoped that Junmyeon would fill the gap, because if all goes well, there is no tomorrow. Suddenly, a memory surfaces to her mind. 

_      “See this flower here?” Junmyeon asked, pointing to a tiny white flower bud. It seemed like a weed, its presence sticking out like a sore thumb.  _

_      “What about it?” Meimei asked. There was nothing peculiar about the flower at the base of the wall, seemingly blown here by the wind.  _

_      “This flower’s honey is poisonous,” Junmyeon said. Meimei looked at him.  _

_      “You’ve been in the garden for five minutes, and you already know what’s poisonous?” _

_      “My mother is a doctor,” Junmyeon said.  _

_      “ I’ve never seen this one before,” she said, eyeing the flower.  _

_      “That’s because it originates from the other side of the river,” Junmyeon replied. Meimei bent down to try to pick it up, but was stopped by Junmyeon.  _

_      “Don’t touch it,” Junmyeon warned, “leave it be.”  _

_      “Why? Someone could be hurt,” Meimei said. Junmyeon smiled.  _

_      “Then allow only the strongest, smartest, and observant to survive,” Junmyeon said. Meimei looked at him, puzzled. Junmyeon sighed.  _

_      “In three weeks, the flower will be in full bloom,” Junmyeon said, “Until the flower is dead and buried under the snow, consume no honey from the kitchens.” She committed that to memory. No honey on fruit in three weeks, got it.  _

_      “But wouldn’t the honey be diluted?” Meimei asked. There were thousands of other flowers in the garden. Just one flower’s toxin would be miniscule compared to the field.  _

_      “It would be, but it’s better not to risk it,” Junmyeon replied. Meimei looked at the flower bud again. Junmyeon noticed her curiosity.  _

_      “If you touch it, it could kill you. Even burning it could cause your heart to stop,”  _

_      “It’s a very scary thing,” Meimei said, “it’s so beautiful, but so, so deadly,” _

 

     Four days. Yixing has four days until the new moon. Four days until his older brother wants him dead. Yixing knows that this is an opportunity. Every time the snake strikes, it must bear its underside. It is a perfect opportunity to catch his brother in the act of treason, but just how is that possible? He turns slightly to the side on the bed, where Junmyeon’s sleeping face is close to his. So close, yet so far, because Yixing can’t read Junmyeon. Junmyeon is a mystery to him, a mystery he is willing to spend any amount of time and effort to uncover. Junmyeon whines, waking up a little. 

     “Go to sleep,” Junmyeon muttered. Yixing smiled. Since when was Junmyeon so adorable? But his previous thoughts returned to his head, and the smile fell. 

     “Junmyeon, if someone was to attack you, how would you use it to prove someone guilty?” Yixing whispered. Despite Junmyeon being half-asleep, he answered quite quickly. 

     “Get an audience,” Junmyeon answered, before tucking himself further into the blankets. Yixing froze.  _ Get an audience.  _ That’s perfect. If there was more than one person in the room, would Yishuo still attack? Yes, and no. Yes, because Yishuo's chances are waning. No, because more people means more eyewitnesses. Yixing pondered the thought. Then whom should he invite to his own assassination? 

 

     Autumn gives way to bitter winds. The palace constantly has a demand for hot coals. Meimei, a kitchen girl who’s been there for only two days, is in charge of bringing the coals to the kitchen from the stockroom. But there, against the wall, labeled in neat, black-and-white words, is the name of the prince each pile of coals will go to. Meimei is observant, she notices this, and a plan begins to formulate in her mind. 

     Wrapping the plant up in a piece of torn cloth, she gently pulls it out from the ground. She snuck here from the kitchen, the hole in the South side, just large enough for a petite frame and hidden well enough that only those who have seen it before will notice. It’s dark out, and the thin clothes are not helpful against the wind, but she insists. She gently shakes the dirt off of the roots, wraps the little white flower well, and tucks it into her shirt. 

     The third day she’s at the kitchen, Meimei doesn’t get sent to retrieve coals, the little flower sitting close to her heart at every moment of the day. She cannot hide the flower in her pallet, because that’s sure to cause suspicion. So she keeps it on her, knowing full well that too long, and it would kill. 

     She’s lucky on the fourth day after coming to the kitchens. The head chef sends the kitchen girl out for more coal to fuel the fire in the oven. When she arrives, the first thing she does is look around. Prince Yishuo’s coal ration is stacked moderately high, and hiding the plant in the midst would be easy.  _ No, too risky if discovered, besides, what if they just take it out?  _ Meimei takes the flower, which has started to shrivel a little, and places it atop the coals. Taking another piece of coal from the same pile, she grinds up the plant, taking care to have the coals below soak up the juices. Hearing footsteps, she quickly wipes away the remaining plant matter with the cloth, and goes back to shoveling coal for the kitchen. 

     “Hey, what are you doing?” the guard asks. Meimei pretends not to hear, filling the basket up. The guard aims a kick at her ribs, sending her toppling over. 

     “I asked you a question, whore, so answer it,” the guard snaps. Meimei ducks her head, trying not the let her tears fall. 

     “Kitchen,” Meimei said, voice barely above a whisper. The guard scoffs.

     “Well, scurry along then,” 

 

     “Personally, I think that we should increase the budget on education,” the minister said. His words, elicit shouts of disagreement from the other councilmen. 

     “I, however, see the need in increasing money spent on roadwork,” another one said, “better roads means more trade.” Yixing felt a flare of anger,  _ More trade of people, you mean.  _ To his right, Yifan shoots the man a disgusted look. Yixing  shook his head to clear his thoughts. Suddenly, there was a  _ ping _ of something knocking against the wooden frame of the window. Startled, the councilmen think it nothing, but Yixing knows.  _ It’s begun.  _


End file.
